Jessa's truck was similar to Cliff's. It was a big and tall vehicle with four doors. The main difference was that Jessa had a roof attached to the truck's bed. Despite the sturdiness of the truck, Rebecca was concerned about it. That truck was the one pulling the RV that the three women were going to stay in. RVs were pretty heavy. Nervousness hit her every few minutes as she followed the RV in her car.
She had learned that, including Cliff, Jessa had four siblings, but the other two weren't coming to the beach with them. There were four trucks, each pulling an RV. One truck had "Nana and Pa." Rebecca was mildly surprised that they still had driving licenses; they had seemed fairly elderly. A second truck had Jessa's parents. The third was Cliff, who would have an RV all to himself. Of course, the fourth truck was Jessa's, with her wife comfortably dozing in the passenger's seat. Rebecca was the only one without a truck, and the only one who wasn't pulling an RV behind her.
She had also learned that Jessa's father had several siblings. Nana and Pa couldn't keep their hands off of each other in their youth, apparently. The resulting tree of children and grandchildren couldn't all come to the beach, and most of them probably didn't want to. Everybody has different plans in their life. What really blew Rebecca's mind was the fact that she had been living near this family without knowing it. The neighborhood she lived in had pretty much most of the family. Each house she had passed while driving out or into the location had a good chance of being owned by someone related to Jessa.
Rebecca's two sets of great grandparents had also been great producers of children, and so, she had a seemingly endless supply of aunts, uncles, and cousins, but she didn't know roughly ninety percent of them. Rebecca's family had spread out like the white fuzz of a dandelion floating in the wind, while Jessa's family had huddled together like a bee hive.
Before they had driven off to the beach, the three women went to Nana and Pa's house early in the morning. That's where the RVs were. As the men, and Jessa, prepared the RVs for transport, Jenny slept in their truck and Rebecca introduced herself as humbly as she could to the grandmother. The woman was in her late seventies, and although Rebecca wanted to ask what race she was, she didn't.
The old woman's name was Annabelle Miller, but she insisted that Rebecca call her Nana, because, as the old woman put it, "You're a youngun, and all the younguns around here call me Nana." When Rebecca told Nana her age, the old woman leaned on her cane and let out a hoarse laugh. She still had all her teeth, and they looked pretty healthy. "You're older than I thought you were, but you're still a youngun! Come on, Girl! I'll get you a glass of water while we wait on the men, that's what we ladies do, you know, unless you're Jessa."
Rebecca had been quite impressed with the house. It wasn't a manufactured home; some people called those kinds of houses mobile homes, even though they weren't exactly mobile. It was a two story building with beautiful windows and sturdy bricks. Everything about the place looked brand new and strong. Even the lawn was well kept.
Despite her mild issue with walking, Nana hobbled around, leading Rebecca around the beloved flower gardens. Then Nana asked her to go inside to look at her dolls. She had a whole room devoted to shelves and shelves of dolls.
Rebecca took the time to ask her about as many dolls as possible, when she bought them, what they were made of, etcetera. Nana had a variety of them, from children's fashion dolls, to expensive porcelain dolls with fragile Victorian clothing and large eyes. Rebecca had a fondness for anybody who collected anything and kept them in beautiful arrangements, even if they collected something weird like staples or cereal boxes.
"I knew a guy," Rebecca had said without thinking, "that would purchase mostly Monster High dolls, but he'd use nail polish remover to wipe off their faces. Then, he'd spray on some stuff to give the faces a papery texture, and he'd draw the most beautiful faces in the world on them. Then he'd use ... I think it was called sealant, to make sure it wouldn't smudge. "
"And a man did this?" Nana pushed her large glasses up. "What was he like?"
Rebecca paused. She shrugged and looked at a Barbie doll. "He's not that important. Anyway, I've seen people do that on YouTube. It's pretty cool. I wish I could do that."
***
The family had reserved four plots in a row at a Christian site. According to Jessa, "We like it here because, believe it or not, people here mind their own business. It's pretty safe." Rebecca was worried about something preachy going on, but Jessa assured her that the worst thing about the place was a rule against really loud music and overall partying on site from ten pm to eight am. "Sometimes, they'll have a small concert or something, but it's always kept away from the RVs," Jessa told her.
The left of the row had Jessa and company's RV first. Then there was Cliff's, the parents, and then the grandparents at the right. Once everyone was secure and set up with power and water, Jessa shoved a pair of tongs into the sky and called out, "Grilling Time!"
To Jessa's obvious disappointment, she didn't get to grill. Her father did. Jessa was hovering over him, asking him questions, and doing everything she could to try to help, but that man was stubborn. At one point, as he was cooking hamburgers over hot charcoal, Jessa began flapping her strong arms like a malfunctioning toy bird. She repeated over and over, "Flip them! Flip them! Come on, flip them, Daddy!" All this went on while Cliff and Pa stayed nearby and nursed beverages, as men often do when something's being grilled outdoors.
The father had introduced himself to Rebecca as Robert Miller. He was almost sixty years old, and sort of reminded Rebecca of her own father, except Robert Miller didn't have a great beer belly, and his skin was much darker. Rebecca had wanted to watch him cook, as her own father had often let her, but for some reason, Robert Miller had given her a strange look. It was like he was bewildered at her audacity to look at the cooking meat. One look at his face embarrassed Rebecca to the point of backing out.
Jessa's mother was Claire Miller, and Rebecca was certain that she was White. She had no problem talking about any handsome young men that happened to walk by. There was a thickness in her frame that Rebecca sort of liked. She was happy to sit with the mother and chat about shopping, amusement parks, and splashing in the sea.
"I can't swim," Rebecca confessed, "but I'd love to put my feet in the water."
"There's a swimming pool around here," Claire Miller told her. She was smiling with bright red lips. "It's a short walk from here. They have a lazy river."
Jenny took a seat at the collapsible table they had chosen. "I love lazy rivers! So relaxing!"
George Miller, also known as Pa, called out to the women, "Would one of you go see if Nana's doing alright?"
Claire agreed to go into the appropriate RV to check in on her.
Jenny's smile was almost impish as she put her elbows on the table and said to Rebecca, "After we eat, we're all going to the aquarium for a few hours. After that, we're all going out eat at our favorite seafood place. Then we'll split up. Jessa and I are going to ride that big-ass ferris wheel we saw on the way here. You want to come?"
Rebecca shook her head. "I want to go to the lazy river." The price for riding that over-blown carnival ride was too damn high anyway.
"We got some extra sunscreen." A can of soda hissed as Jenny opened it. "Just holler, and we'll soak you in it."
***
The aquarium had been cool and colorful. A wheelchair had been brought for Nana to make all the wandering about less troublesome. There was a tunnel of glass where a viewer could admire the beautiful sea creatures. To have a toothy shark float above you was quite chilling. Rebecca's favorite exhibit had colorful seahorses. She separated herself from the group to examine them. For a few moments, she was fascinated, and then she heard Mr. Cliff Miller speak to her.
She turned to him. He was so cute in his obvious tourist shirt with that Hawaii inspired pattern. His pants were pretty normal, though, tight jeans that practically spelled out his muscles. Rebecca tried to remember what he had asked her, something about the seahorses.
Oh, that's right! She smiled as she remembered. "I think seahorses are fish, but don't quote me on that." Her eyes went back to the floating little seahorses. They had such peaceful lives, no predators, no competition for food. Captivity had its advantages, as long as the ones who held you were kind.
"Did you know the males essentially give birth to the babies?" he asked, sliding a little bit closer to her. Why did he always smell like steak and pine needles? It was starting to feel odd.
"Yeah. I also heard that while the male is holding onto the babies, the female will occasionally touch and caress him. Isn't that cute?"
